


Allure

by VioletTeaTime



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Artist AU, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Photography, Pre-Relationship, based on a request, let death the kid say fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletTeaTime/pseuds/VioletTeaTime
Summary: Death the Kid finds himself taking up photography as an outlet. After an accidental photo, he finds his muse.-Based on a request from @AspergerHero
Relationships: (Minor), Death the Kid/Liz Thompson, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Allure

**Author's Note:**

> howdy! i've been writing fanfiction for almost six years and this is the first time i've ever based a story on a straight couple instead of having them in the background, which is odd to me. I guess that may be a byproduct of never seeing queer representation, idk. I rather like this ship, so I had a good time writing this one! This fic is based on a request by AspergerHero!

There was something very satisfying about the weight of the camera in his hands. It couldn't weigh more than two pounds, but it made him feel powerful. Maybe even more so than when he held Liz and Patty, but that was something he would never voice aloud. Every click of the shutter made him feel more alive than any drug could. Reapers were born to take away life, but every photo he took felt like the creation of life. It was endless.

Death the Kid lifted the camera, long fingers wrapped expertly around its body. It was a simple point-and-shoot that Liz had chosen, his friends had pooled the money to buy it for him for his birthday. It had only been a few weeks since then, the Autumn air having faded into a crisp cold. He sighed deeply, resting his finger over the shutter release. He had the camera pointed between two buildings downtown, framing the scene of a young father walking with each hand being held by a child. 

With a solid click, the photo was taken. He switched over to the gallery, Patty peering over his shoulder.

"Wow! That's a good one!" Her voice was squeaky in his ear. He counted each gravel step on the bottom of the image.

"No no no! He has sixteen on one side and only twelve on the other! What about the center focus? Oh Gods, it's all wrong." Death the Kid deflated, landing on his knees on the city street. Patty tapped his shoulder, shaking him.

"Kid, no! It's so natural and pretty! It doesn't have to be symmetrical to be perfect!" Kid's head snapped back to give her a dark look.

"Of course it does! All of my other good photos have been symmetrical. Or at least balanced. This... this is a disgrace. It's a pathetic excuse for a photo."

Death the Kid froze as he heard a laugh behind him. "All that effort for nothing. You really are something, Kid." Liz was leaning on the gates of a restaurant patio, a few bags hanging off her wrist from shopping. She crossed to him, holding out a hand to help pull him up. He graciously took it. 

-

Liz was not perfect. She was rather far from it. Her one eye was monolidded, making her eyeliner always seem off. She had more freckles on the left side of her face than the right, as well as a lopsided smile. But she was the one thing he could never criticize. Liz was perfect imperfection. 

-

Death the Kid's back hurt from having been slouched over for so long. He had edited the photo from earlier, which had been a painstaking experience for such a novice. His mouse moved around the screen, analyzing the perfect place to upload it in his photo stream on his website. He needed the colours to balance perfectly. He tapped his feet under the desk, socked feet rubbing over fluffy carpeting. His immersion in the project made it far too easy for Liz to sneak up on her meister. 

She placed a cup of tea on his desk, causing him to startle. Liz smiled down at him.

"You gettin' anywhere on this?" She leaned over, squinting at the scene. 

"You should be wearing your glasses instead of straining your eyes like that. And no. If I put it over here-" He dropped the photo into an open slot. "It makes the other side seem too blue. But the sky is too pink for me to put it in the middle."

"Why don't you wait until tomorrow then and we can go take another picture. So it will be balanced."

"Liz, you're a genius!" He stood up and slammed the laptop closed with far more force than necessary. He stretched out, his spine cracking up a line as it realigned with his usual impeccable posture.

"I try."

-

She was too much for him. Death the Kid held his skateboard tucked under one arm, his camera bag strapped to his back. He stood, entranced by the woman on the street corner. She leaned against her bike, ethereal. Her hair was braided, pieces falling out. Her socks didn't even match, and the laces of one shoe were tucked in while the other laces were in a wide bow. Liz was the most beautiful disaster Death the Kid had ever seen. 

Liz waved when they met eyes, and Kid felt his feet move towards her. 

"Hey Liz. I was thinking we could go to the park on Grimmstone." He placed the skateboard on the ground. 

"Sounds fun! They have the best swings there." She slipped her cell phone in her backpack's side pocket and got back on her bike.

"Liz, you really should be wearing a helmet." 

"You're like, seven times more likely to get hurt on a skateboard. You should be covering that big ass head of yours."

She took off down the street, not even looking as she crossed the intersection. Death the Kid sighed, and followed after the girl, cautiously looking both ways first.

-

Death the Kid sighed, tapping his fingers nervously on his camera. The sky was a vibrant blue, but that seemed to be one of the only that was. He had remembered the equipment as blue from his childhood, but much of it had been replaced with plastic substitutes, or was now painted a coppery red. The swings, in all their glory, remained blue. But they were old and chipped with graffiti marks, scuffs, scrapes. The set itself was uneven, with three proper swings and one for a younger child. 

He pointed his camera at two trees, the sun behind them. The photo would be bland, not even worth his time. His deadline was coming up in a few weeks, this wouldn't be good enough to show at the museum, even if it was an amateur night. He did his best to ignore Liz giggling on the swing set, the metal squealing as she flew. He turned to face her, intending to ask her opinion, but his words fell short, bubbling to silence in his chest.

Liz had her eyes closed, her hair was spiraling around her, the braid nearly undone. Her knuckles were white, hands tightly grasping the chains holding the seat. One of her shoes had fallen off into the wood chips below. Without a second thought, Death the Kid raised his camera. He dropped to his knees, aiming up to make it appear as though she was above all. He clicked the shutter button just as she laughed again. Kid stood quickly and checked the gallery. The photo would need some colour correcting, he needed to play around with the contrast. But it was a perfect photo. Because it was Liz. 

-

He stopped uploading his new work to his photo stream. He used imperfect images, as much as it bugged him. Death the Kid couldn't let Liz know about these pictures. She, best case scenario, would be weirded out by it. Worst case scenario, he'd be called a pervert and would be left a weaponless meister. So he kept his secret. His portfolio was coming together nicely, many of the photos being of Liz. Liz on the swings. Liz and Maka's backs in the library, the books out of focus. Liz holding a sparkler, twirling it in a figure-eight. Liz's hands as she picked flowers. He had accompanied each photo of her with landscapes, images of objects, buildings, anything that fit the colour scheme and the feeling of her. She was the centerpiece, the unbalanced balance to each of his sets. 

It helped. It helped him a lot, allowing himself to be utterly consumed by something, someone, with imperfections. He found himself unwinding slowly, a weight he forgot was on his chest beginning to lift. He didn't need to spend an hour picking at his acne and covering the red bumps to seem symmetrical anymore, he didn't feel compelled to lock the door three times. And when he forgot, the fire in his chest was dim. 

She didn't fix him. But he was able to embrace her, and that made all the difference. 

-

Showing his photos was a nerve wracking idea for Death the Kid. It was one thing to simply upload them to his nameless stream, an anonymous expression. But here, he was expected to stand near his work, explain his work. The museum had been gracious enough to let the artists come up to four hours early to set up, which Kid had taken full advantage of to make sure his set up was perfect. 

He had opted for a set up at the end of one of the lines of artists, next to a person he had seen but never spoken to, another student at the DWMA. They shuffled their pottery around, beautifully crafted and painted images, pots, and other knick-knacks. Death the Kid envied their calmness, pressure building in his stomach. He was worried he had gone too out of the box, but, even in the room of amateurs, he wasn't sure if he was good enough. 

The booth across from his was filled with handmade clothes, costumes, all of soft colours. The girl who ran it sipped tea from a beautiful blue tea set, eyes scanning the crowd, finding their way to Kid more often then he was comfortable with. He had popped his Airpods in, listening to a playlist Tsubaki had suggested. His booth had a corner to it, a landscape of Death City at night, filled with lights and lanterns during New Year's celebrations faced into the booth. Facing out of the booth was an image of Liz, a grin loose on her blushed cheeks. She wore a yellow kimono with red details, and held a red luck lantern in front of her, just in front of her face. Most of his booth was prints of his landscapes, or of Liz with her face strategically cropped out. The single image that held her face was behind him on canvas, the picture of her on the swing, her hair and the sun forming a perfect halo. He was also selling some small paintings, post cards, and a tote bag with a picture of Liz from behind, layered over with sunflowers. 

He sighed, trying once again to balance out his milk crates of prints on the left of the booth so the rest of what he was selling seemed more accessible. The girl from the pastel booth approached him and silently straightened it out. Kid stood back, watching as she rearranged his booth slightly. She stood back, glaring across the items.

"You came in with one more box of stuff, right Stripes? If you put whatever that was here-" She motioned to a gap she had created "you'll have a damn good set up. Also move where you have your cards. No one wants to reach all the way over to grab them." She held one up, the matte black glistening in the lighting. "Kidd Death. Edgy."

He moved to unpack the last box, an array of stickers in small containers marked with prices. "It's close enough to my real name."

"I'm Angie. Your girlfriend is really pretty." 

"Oh. She's not my girlfriend. She's just my weapon."

"Clearly, you don't want just be weapon and meister. Go after her, dude." Angie walked back over to her booth and poured herself another cup of tea, leaving Kid alone to think.

-

The beginning of the night went smoothly. Far more people approached him than he expected, and he quickly began selling out of his tote bags, stickers, even some of his prints. Most of his cards were gone, and he took a mental note to check his email for photography gigs after the show. When people inquired about the girl, he just shook his head and laughed. That was enough of an explanation for most people. However, it wasn't a good enough explanation for a certain couple.

"Damn, dude! I didn't know you'd be here!" Soul's voice rang out, his hand entwined with Maka's. While she looked respectful in a nice dress and pretty boots, Soul had made no effort to look any nicer than what was average for the guy, which wasn't saying much. She was holding a large bag in her free hand, and looked with open wonder at his booth.

"Soul, behave." Maka smiled at the photo of Liz behind Kid's stunned face. "She looks so pretty there. You capture her emotions really well, Kid."

"What are you two even doing here? I distinctly told Tsubaki to tell everyone I was with my father." He sounded more harsh than intended, but he felt like a kid who had just been caught drawing on the wall. 

"Yeah, she did say that. Maka thought we needed new shit for the apartment."

"I said we needed a new vibe, Soul." She rolled her eyes and dropped his hand to slowly sift through Kid's remaining prints. "We didn't know you would be here. I'm happy you are, though." She held up a print of herself and Soul silhouetted, the sky fading behind them. Her head was on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around his waist. Soul smiled at the photo, gently taking it from her hand, the plastic cover crinkling, making Maka swat him. It was weird for Kid to see them so openly domestic.

"Seriously, Kid. It's really good to see you. You seem calm here, y'know? You fit in here." Soul's sincerity was something Kid didn't want to take for granted, so he let a word of thanks slip through his mouth, and told Soul just to take the photo. Maka looked at her partner for a moment, then at Kid, then back to Soul. She placed a hand on his back,   
"go on without me, just for a minute. I'll catch up. And don't you dare wreck that picture." She pushed him forward slightly, and he obeyed, grumbling slightly. 

Maka walked around the table and put her hand on Death the Kid's shoulder. His pulse quickened. He wasn't ready for whatever Maka was about to say. She was always right, especially when she had the wild look in her eyes like the one she was giving him. 

"You need to tell her. Show her." She was calm, measured. Kid looked down, trying to ignore the intense look in her eyes. 

"I don't know how. And even if I did, I can't be with her. I'm kinda fucked up, Maka." 

"Yeah, but she knows that too. And she loves that about you. We all do, idiot. Just... show her that." She turned his shoulders to force him to look at the swing picture. 

"Kid. You aren't wrong for feeling something, and I need you to believe that. And you do too." Maka squeezed his shoulder and left without another word, off to find the silver haired man she loved. Death the Kid sat down on his chair, tapping his rings against the metal arms. 

-

He found Liz outside. She was sitting on the porch of the manor, billowing smoke from her mouth. When she heard the door shut behind Kid, she quickly put the cigarette out.

"I thought you were done with smoking."

"I'm down to one dart a day, thanks very much." She rubbed her hands together as he sat beside her. He took her in quickly, her calm pose, soft pyjamas, soft straightened hair. 

"Liz." He stopped himself. He didn't know what to do, to say. 

"Kid." She looked at him with patient eyes. She was too good. Too good for him, too good for Death City.

His hands shook as he took a small print out of the inside of his jacket. No larger than four by six, the photo was the same size as his hand, but held so much power over him. He placed it on her knee. She looked down at it, taking it between her thumb and forefinger. 

"Kid this is-"

"Really weird, I know." He shouldn't have done this. He just ruined everything, his friendship, his partnership with Liz would never be the same. All because of that stupid, beautiful photo.

"No, I was gonna say this is really cool." She looked up to face him, cheeks pink.

"Really?"

"Kid, I think... this is really cool. You're really cool, y'know? You can do stuff like this. This is..."

"Beautiful. Just like you." She smiled, shaking her head.

"You're a loser." Just like that, her lips were on his. She tasted of smoke, and the kiss was all teeth, the teens not quite close enough to make it a good one. He smiled as she pulled away, and shuffled closer. He held her face and leaned in for another kiss. Just as their lips met, he heard a squeal from behind him, and the flash of a camera. He laughed as Patti waved his camera around in the door frame.

-

At the next art show, no one had to ask who the girl in the photos was. She was right beside him, fingers intertwined. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you liked it, please leave a kudo or a comment!  
> you can find me shitposting over on my tumblr @sapphicteatime, where I also have a request page!


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